


Couples Counselling

by songbvrd



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: (fleetingly), Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake Dating, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minho is a Good Friend (Maze Runner), Newt is a Dork (Maze Runner), No Proofreading We Die Like Men, Teresa Agnes and Thomas (Maze Runner) are Twins, based on a prompt, fake dating au, kinda funny i think?, newtmas - Freeform, pretty much entirely fluff, the mention is canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29675337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songbvrd/pseuds/songbvrd
Summary: When Minho dares Thomas to ask a good looking stranger to go to Couples Counselling with him and see how long they can pull it off, Thomas is unsure.But even after barely knowing the boy, Newt, Thomas finds himself wishing they were actually a couple.Based on the prompt: Anyone down to take Couples Counselling with me and see at what point the therapist realises we don't even know each other?
Relationships: Minho & Newt (Maze Runner), Minho & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 131





	Couples Counselling

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a cute lil fluffy oneshot as a break from all my WIPs (which I should have been doing instead). Hope you guys enjoy x 
> 
> As always, please feel free to leave any/all feedback and/or come yell at me on tumblr/twitter @songbvrd. I am taking requests in either of those places also :)

“Twenty percent isn’t enough, man.” Thomas said flatly, shaking his head. “This is a big dare. We’re talking multiple appointments plus embarrassing myself in front of a random person.”

“What do you mean? Twenty percent is plenty!”

“Dude… You gave me more respect for sleeping on an ironing board that one time.” 

“Well… yeah, I was younger then. Weaker. My standards were lower.” His eyes flickered over to a blonde boy sitting towards the back of the cafe. He looked to be their age, and this was a college haunt, so he probably went to their school. Which meant there was a good chance Thomas would actually see him again. 

He was altogether unfamiliar to Thomas, but the thought made Thomas nervous regardless. With his black turtleneck and wide rimmed, round glasses, someone else might’ve looked nerdy or awkward. But this boy looked like he’d been taken from the front page of some high fashion magazine, his blonde hair falling gracefully down into his eyes. His face was boyish, almost pixieish, but somehow, it worked. Sure, he wouldn’t mind pretending to be in a serious relationship with that guy. Even if it likely would be extremely embarrassing. 

As it happened, the whole thing was ridiculous and pointless. But he and Minho had been doing it since they were five years old. Betting each other in respect. It wasn’t worth shit, of course. Saying ‘I bet you twenty percent respect you won’t sleep on an ironing board’ didn’t actually give Thomas anything, except the satisfaction of it. All their lives, people had told them they were being stupid.

No one stopped them from doing dumb shit though, and they two would surely keep going forever, slowly escalating until one of them robbed a bank or something equally ridiculous. 

“Thirty percent, take it or leave it.” Minho interrupted his thoughts, and Thomas’ brown eyes flickered from the boy, to Minho, and back. If there was anything they two knew about each other, it was that neither ever wanted to be the one to back down first. It was how they’d ended up on their track team in high school. How they’d gotten dates to their Prom. How they’d nearly gotten arrested in New York the previous year. This would be embarrassing, sure, but Thomas didn’t back down.

He walked slowly towards the boy, willing himself not to trip and stumble or embarrass himself in any way. He lifted the chair opposite the boy carefully, so it wouldn’t squeak on the floors, then dropped into it. If he was going to do this, at least he had to be smooth about it. 

“Hi.” He spoke, a lazy smile pulling across his face, trying his best for a charming smile.

The blonde boy across from him (Thomas realised he’d begun internally referring to him as Peter Pan) regarded him coolly, and Thomas thought his eyes were nearly black in colour, but big and round. It was oddly intimidating, especially when he seemed so disinterested off the bat. 

“Can I help you?”

_ Oh _ . 

“British.” He said out loud, any hope of charm instantly fading away and abandoning him. 

“You sat at my table uninvited to tell me I’m British?” Peter Pan deadpanned, his brows furrowing into a frown that only made him look more like a model. Thomas just blinked at him, embarrassed for a moment while he composed himself.

“No. No, sorry. I was just taken off guard by your accent.” He confessed. “Sorry, I actually… came here to proposition you.”

His brows shot up, and Thomas immediately heard what he’d said. How it must sound.

“No, shit, not like that!” He raised his hands quickly. “My best friend, the guy in the red jumper a few tables over, he and I are constantly betting each other to do stupid things. And uh, he dared me to come up to you and ask you to go to Couples Counselling with me.” 

Peter Pan blinked, and Thomas just looked at him, feeling increasingly awkward. “I know it’s weird.” He managed. “But the whole idea is we go as strangers and see how long it takes them to figure out we’re not really a couple. That we don’t even know each other.”

The boy was still looking at him and Thomas was beginning to wonder if his plan was to just stay silent until Thomas gave up and walked away when he finally spoke again.

“Alright.”

Thomas nearly fell off his chair in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?”

Thomas blinked at him, wondering what he must look like to this boy. Ridiculous, probably. He was ridiculous. But hey, now he could tell Minho he won, and wasn’t that thirty percent really all that mattered. 

“Awesome.” He went to stand up and then sat back down, promptly realising he’d made a mistake. “Hang on, I need, like, your name and number so I can organise this.”

Peter Pan nodded and held out his hand. Thomas stared at it, unsure, before high fiving it, visibly confused.

“I… meant for you to give me your bloody phone, mate.” He looked like he was trying to stifle laughter, and Thomas’ face burned. He was making an absolute fool out of himself. This boy would probably never call him back. 

Thomas unlocked his phone and then handed it over to the blonde boy, who seemed like he was barely restraining laughter as time went by. 

Thomas shot a glance over his shoulder at Minho while the blonde put in his information, flashing a cocky smile to Minho, who grinned brightly despite looking a little surprised it’d worked. When he looked back, the blonde had finished putting his information in and was holding the phone back out to him. Thomas took it, looking down at the words on the screen. 

“Newt.” He said softly, trying to assign the name to the boy in front of him. 

“It’s technically Sam. But everyone calls me Newt. Last name’s Newton.” He explained, though Thomas hadn’t asked, and he wondered if Newt had sensed that Thomas thought it was an odd name. 

“Thomas.” The brunette explained, before awkwardly sticking his hand out for the blonde to shake. 

“You go here?” The blonde asked, gesture vaguely in the direction of the university. Thomas nodded instinctively and Newt seemed pleased. “Be easier to plan something then. I assume you’re setting all this up. Since I’m going with you as your bereaved partner.”

“Oh. Um, yeah. I’ll text you information when I have it. And uh, we’ll just wing the rest, yeah? That’s the idea? Strangers?” 

The blonde nodded, then returned to reading as if nothing had ever happened. Thomas felt like he’d been dismissed, and though it was awkward, he got to his feet quietly and returned to his table with Minho, who cackled as if he’d heard the whole thing. Thomas had assumed he was too far away, but maybe he’d been mistaken. Either way, it was embarrassing. 

*

Time went by, and Thomas realised he hadn’t even asked what the boy studied. He didn’t know his age, or whether he lived on campus, or whether he even liked men. Most of the information wasn’t important, but it would be  _ good to know  _ at least. He knew nothing about him except that his name was Newt and he was British. And that he was dry. A dry sense of humour that made Thomas feel stupid.

When he’d texted Newt, they hadn’t spoken much. That was, after all, the point. 

**Thomas:** are you free thursday at 12.30pm? this is thomas btw.

**Newt:** Yeah. Where is it?

**Thomas:** couple blocks away. i can pick you up from your dorm if you want.

**Newt:** Weirdest first date I’ve ever been on. I’ll drop you my location. 

**Thomas:** cool. thanks for going along with all this. 

**Newt:** See you Thursday.

*

By Thursday morning, Thomas was starting to feel sick. It would be funny, he reminded himself. Just a joke, just a game. The boy had agreed to go along with it and Minho had said it was only two sessions to win the bet. Or however long it took for them to get kicked out. Whichever came first. 

He had dressed nicer, though it meant nothing and Newt surely wouldn’t care. A boy who looked like that surely already had a partner, right? He seemed torn from the pages of a Young Adult indie romance, the perfect new age leading man, complete with his sardonic seeming humour and carefully dark style. 

Thomas, who resembled more a labrador than a leading man in a rom com, had tried to dress nice, but he didn’t feel it in his chinos and button down. By the time he knocked on Newt’s dorm door, he was jittery and uncomfortable, bound to start saying the same dumb shit he had last time they’d talked.

The door opened and an unknown man stood in the doorway. He was about as tall as Thomas, but a little bigger, with a slightly skeptical expression on his face. “You’re Thomas?” He asked, and Thomas felt instantly intimidated. Was  _ this  _ Peter Pan’s boyfriend?

“Uh, yeah. Is Newt around?” 

As if on perfect cue, Newt popped his head out from a little bathroom they seemed to share in the dorm. He walked around into the room, and had that same air about him as last time. A white turtleneck, black leather jacket, dark slacks. Like before, he looked like he belonged in a very fancy catalogue, and Thomas wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to do this. Surely someone like that had better things to do with his time. His hair looked so fluffy that Thomas wanted to touch it, but he restrained himself, realising that’d be weird.

“Hey, mate. This is Alby, my roommate.” He explained as he yanked his phone off a charger and slid it into his back pocket. 

“Oh, hi.” Thomas gave the other boy a half wave. He didn’t know him from a brick in the wall, but the boy scared him a little. He already seemed unsure of Thomas, which made Thomas far more unsure of him in response. 

“See ya later, Al.” Newt said, patting the boy affectionately on the cheek as he passed. Thomas watched, feeling somehow bad for witnessing it. How had he even gotten here? He didn’t belong here, he didn’t even know Newt’s major! Hell, he’d been calling him Peter Pan in his head all week since they last met, even after he found out the blonde’s name. 

Once they were out into the hall and walking, Newt threw him a glance. “We certainly look like a couple that’d be fighting.” Newt told him, sounding slightly amused. Thomas didn’t know what it meant, but part of him felt the need to defend their non existent relationship.

“Why?” He asked, “I don’t look handsome enough for you?”

Newt scoffed, shaking his head. “Something like that.” He began, then laughed, “No. Because we have a very different…” He waved a hand vaguely, in thought.

“Vibe?” Thomas supplied, and Newt nodded.

“You look like you just got done rushing a fraternity called like… Capa Delta Maxipad and have the middle name Brad, but you can’t tell anyone because there are seventeen other Brad’s in your frat house already.”

Thomas wasn’t sure he’d ever been so offended in his whole life. 

“I’m not in a frat. And my middle name is Stephen.”

“That’s not better.” He paused, “Let me guess. You play football? You probably lettered in it in High School?”

Thomas wanted to argue, but actually… yeah. He had. 

“Right.” Newt nodded, practically glowing with his success. “Let me guess. You were Prom King. Probably got in here on Scholarship. You had at least two girlfriends in high school and you and your friend are on at least one sporting team together.”

Thomas blinked. “I wasn’t Prom King, Minho was, but…” Newt raised his brows at him, waiting, “I was Homecoming King. Only had the one girlfriend in high school. Minho and me run track together.”

Newt nodded triumphantly. 

“Nice to meet you, Brad from Capa Beta Maxipad.”

“I thought I was in Capa Delta Maxipad?”

“I upgraded you.”

“Well, fine.” Thomas began, nodding once. “Let me do you.”

Newt snorted at his poor choice of words, but nodded regardless as they walked. He seemed curious, and Thomas couldn’t help but respect his willingness to cop it back as easily as he’d dished it out.

“You’re… studying something science-y. You came here from England on your own to go to college because you were trying to prove yourself. You, uh, would never rush a frat because you think you’re better than them. You’re dating or dated your roommate at some point.”

They were all totally random guesses, but he just wanted to get his own back, if even a little. And he figured finding out if Newt was single on the way could only be a bonus.

“Nearly none of that is right.” Newt answered with a mysterious sort of grin, but didn’t elaborate on which parts. 

“I bet your middle name is something like…. Nigel.”

“It’s Isaac, actually.” 

“Sam Isaac Newton…? Why didn’t they just go all the way and make your first name ‘Sir’?”

Newt scoffed, “Hey, you’ve gotta be like, level twelve friend to unlock my family history.” He argued, shaking his head.

He walked a little ahead, and Thomas noticed he walked with a limp. He was desperate to ask, but figured it would be rude to. And besides, Newt already thought he was like a boring frat boy named Brad, he needn’t steer any further into that by asking insensitive questions. 

“Can I ask you something?” Thomas asked as he jogged to keep up with his new companion, who apparently though, perhaps rightly, that Thomas was an idiot. 

“I suspect you will anyway, so please.”

Thomas nodded. At least Newt already knew what his curiosity levels were like. That would lead to less disappointment down the road. “Why’d you agree to do this with me? Especially if you see me as a dumb frat boy?”

Newt shrugged, seeming to ruminate on the question before he answered. Thomas decided he liked this about Newt— he never just answered on a whim, he seemed to really think about every choice. Every word.

“Something just told me I’d regret it if I didn’t. It sounds funny and I don’t want to miss out on that. Plus, I’m a sucker for helping someone win a bet. Can’t say no.”

Thomas liked him more already. Fear of missing out and a competitive urge to win a bet. Now those things they had in common. 

They walked into the office, pale and relaxing, and Thomas grabbed Newt’s hand without thinking, interweaving their fingers. Newt shot him a look, and Thomas grinned back at him. Like he was challenging him, almost. They informed the receptionist of who they were, and she gave them some paperwork to fill out with questions about their relationship. They alternated who answered what. 

**Names:** Samuel Newton ‘Newt’. Thomas. 

**Length of Relationship:** 5\. (They didn’t specify a unit of time, knowing the assumption would be five years and not the five days since they’d actually met.)

**Problem areas:** Distance. Secrets. Non-existent sex life. 

**Relationship Status:** It’s complicated.

They each also filled out individuals. Dates of birth, medical histories, sexuality and gender identities. They didn’t read each others’, but Thomas wished they had. He wanted to know more about Newt. He knew the point was to know less, but Newt had read him like a book. It felt like it should be his turn. 

“Newt and Thomas.” A lady called, opening a large door and calling them over. 

The two got to their feet again, and this time Newt took Thomas’ hand. He wondered if he’d started something. An unwitting game of chicken, of who would start back off first. So be it. 

When he got inside the room, Thomas saw how nice it was. 

Big plush chairs and a wide open window. There was gentle music playing and the whole place smelled like some kind of flower he couldn’t name. It felt like one of those chambers people had in comic books where their powers became useless. Like it was meant to neutralise them.

“My name is Ava Paige.” The woman began, “It’s nice to meet you both. Please feel free to choose a seat. There are separate one-seaters, a two-seater or a love seat. I suggest you choose based on how close you feel to each other at this moment.”

Thomas looked at the chairs, then up at the blonde boy beside him. Were they still playing chicken? As casually as if it was nothing, Newt walked to the two seater (the most neutral option) and sat. Thomas followed and sat beside him. Even with it being made for two people, his left side pressed against Newt’s right. He could feel where their arms touched, and he tried not to think about the way it made his stomach flutter. He barely knew this boy. He  _ still  _ didn’t know if he was dating Alby or not. 

“Alright, please introduce yourselves and tell me how you feel about the person next to you.”

Newt spoke first. “Well, Tommy is meant to be the love of my life, but I feel like I barely even know him. Like he barely talks to me.” 

Thomas felt a rush of something cold and  _ nervous  _ when Newt called him ‘Tommy’, but his mind seemed to catch on it. Seemed to warm to it. Having a crush on a boy it was his job not to know seemed stupid, but he was… fascinating, bold and handsome. 

“Oh, and I’m Newt. I’m twenty-two, I’m doing a masters of fine arts and literature. My family moved out from England when I was fourteen.”

Thomas blinked at him.  _ Huh.  _ So Newt was an artist of some sort, probably, maybe an author. He’d been in America since he was fourteen, rather than eighteen, as Thomas had guessed. He was a year older than Thomas. He filed all this away to draw upon later, as if opening a little folder on Newt in his mind, wanting to know him better.

Ava looked to him, and he startled. “Oh. Yeah, right. I’m Thomas. Only Newt calls me Tommy. I’m twenty-one, a scholarship student and lived here my whole life.” He paused, frowning, “It feels like Newt tells everyone more about himself than me. When I try to ask, I get vague answers, but when someone else does, he’s so open. It just feels like… he doesn’t want to be close to me.” 

“Well, sometimes it feels like you don’t want to know me. Like the whole point is to keep me at arm’s length from you…” Newt sat, his dark eyes fixing on Thomas. Thomas stared into them, taking his opportunity. His eyes were calculating and clever, and Thomas thought it was obvious just from looking at him that there was a whole world back there he didn’t express out loud. Maybe he was an author. Or a poet. Thomas could see that.

“But then I ask you questions and try to know you better and you make me feel stupid asking…” Thomas answered, trying to act more emotionally invested, rather than amused. Which was what he actually was. “Never mind when you call me Brad.”

“Ugh,” Newt shook his head, “I knew you were going to bring that up. Brad isn’t anyone! I don’t even care about him!” 

“Well, I don’t always want to hear about Maxipad Brad!”

“Ugh— I didn’t know you’d be so jealous.” Newt’s eyes twinkled at him, and Thomas could tell he was amused.  _ Good.  _ He was glad this was working out, it would’ve been no fun doing this with someone who wasn’t amused by it all. 

“Alright…” Ava began, her voice soothing and her smile gentle. “Let’s unpack some of these things, yeah? It seems like you’re both feeling a sense of distance, and, in Tommy’s case, perhaps insecurity.” 

“Only  _ I _ call him Tommy.” Newt cut in. “He’s Thomas to everyone else.”

If Thomas hadn’t decided it before, he’d decided now. He liked Newt. The boy clearly had a great sense of humour, and absolutely no shame to boot. He doubted they’d last long convincing Ava, but for now, he was having fun. 

“I apologise. Thomas. Well, perhaps both of you, Thomas and Newt, might indulge me by doing an exercise?” She asked. “I’d like the two of you to turn to each other, make proper eye contact, and sincerely, genuinely tell each other three things you really love about each other.”

Thomas had to keep himself from laughing. Did he even  _ know  _ three things about Newt? He was sure he could come up with something believable at least, if he really tried. 

He looked at the blonde boy, whose eyes were challenging and amused. The game of chicken went on then. 

“Newt… I love… your devious sense of humour.” He began, figuring that was the most obvious thing he’d been exposed to. “Your spontaneity and willingness to jump into any stupid idea with me.” This, he could prove. “And… uh, I love your accent.” That was more physical than personal, but he figured he could get away with it.

But if he’d thrown the gauntlet down, Newt had not only taken it, but he’d taken it one step further. He leaned closer towards Thomas, and put his hands on either side of his face. Thomas had to hold his breath to keep from laughing as he stared into his eyes, his expression and acting comically over-sincere. 

“Tommy. I love the way you commit to the resolutions you set in life.”  _ Clever _ , Thomas thought, still forcing himself not to laugh. “I love your bravery, in reaching out to people you don’t know very well.” Like him. “And… I love your footballer’s body.” The last one was an obvious tease, and he watched as the corner of Newt’s mouth quirked up into a smile, amused and trying to keep serious. Thomas lost any hope of that, a smile breaking out fully across his face, his eyes locked on the blonde boy. If they stared at each other too much longer, Thomas was bound to start laughing. 

“Well, see. Doesn’t it feel nice to be recognised by your partner?” Ava asked, clearly overjoyed with their ‘progress’. “You’re both feeling a sense of distance, so I want to focus on how you can be closer together. We’re going to do some trust exercises. I also want you to focus on framing things in a positive way and being generous with your love and affection.”

Newt nodded, overly sincere, and his fingers threaded through Thomas’. He pulled their entwined hands to rest on his knee and was giving Thomas that same smug, challenging look. This would be a disaster, no doubt, because Thomas wasn’t one to back down. Hell, he was only here because he and Minho had been torturing each other with stupid bets for as long as he could remember. 

“Alright. If you’re comfortable with it, I would recommend we do a few exercises to promote sensitivity and a sense of closeness. For instance, I'd like the two of you to first, look into each other's eyes for a whole minute. No laughter, no judgement, no fear. This is a safe place and you two love each other, so try to show that in your gaze.” 

He turned to face Newt again, and the blonde boy did the same. Remiss on what to do with himself, he stared directly intently at his face, into his eyes and around, taking note of the smaller details. He had a very light smattering of freckles across his nose, which Thomas mightn’t have even noticed in worse lighting, or if he wasn’t staring so hard. There was a little mole under his right eye. Thomas noted that his eyes were big and owlish, that he was sure he was a doe-eyed child, perhaps even more so than he was as an adult. He could still see the pixieish element to his face, though it seemed to even out now, with the personality he had come to associate with the boy. He no longer thought he looked as young, but he felt like he could see, maybe in the furrow of his brow or the setting of his jaw, that the boy had been through a lot. He wasn’t completely untroubled, and Thomas felt like maybe there was a weight in his eyes that he hadn’t seen before. 

He was still cute, Thomas thought, even after examining him this closely. If anything, he was finding that he actually liked him more. He couldn’t help the fondness that grew in his chest as he thought about how this boy had agreed to do this without so much as knowing his major or last name. About how he’d committed fully, and was doing a better job than Thomas himself. About how willing he’d been not only to go along with it all, but to throw himself into the  _ act  _ of them as a couple. 

He decided he should try to bring him to Minho, that the three of them would likely be very good friends— especially considering how rare it could be for he and Minho to find someone they both really liked, being as different as they were on a personal level too. Anyone who could be trusted to commit to something like this was someone who would fit into their friendship well, and Thomas had not only respect, but apparently affection for anyone who’d do that. 

Newt licked his lips and Thomas’ eyes focused there, looking at his lips for a few moments too long, contemplating them. He could easily pass it off as committing to their exercise, though really, he had just gotten distracted. Distracted by the cocky way one of the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk. 

He managed to pull his eyes away, and found that same mirth in Newt’s again when he finally managed to meet them. That amused look was engaging as hell, and Thomas wished he could know what Newt was thinking about. 

“Alright. I want to know some more about this distance between you. Tell each other one thing you  _ really  _ want the other person to know and understand.”

Thomas blinked. Newt would have to start on this one, because Thomas was still lost in his quiet observations of the blonde boy and was too distracted to think of something clever. 

“Something we want them to know… about us?” Newt asked, clarifying.

“Yes. Something you feel maybe your partner doesn’t really understand about you, but which you’d like them to.”

Well, that could be fucking  _ anything  _ considering they knew nothing about each other. 

“I want Tommy to know that… I’m glad he picked me. That this journey has been totally worth it.” No wonder the bastard was doing a literature degree, he was making what was basically a ‘hey, this was a fun idea’ sound like an admission of romantic love and commitment. Thomas wondered for a moment, before he caught himself, what it might feel like to have Newt actually be looking at him with love rather than fond amusement and acted sincerity.

“Beautiful. And you, Thomas.”

What the fuck did Thomas want him to know? “I want you to know that I know I ask a lot from you, but it means the world to me that you’re willing to help me, and to be my partner.” There, Thomas thought, beat that. 

The conversation went on much the same way, with Ava bringing up things that made them nice to each other and also made them pretend to lash out in anger and in jealousy.

Thomas at one point managed an emotional wail of, “I’m sorry I’m not smart enough for you!” Which Newt responded to with an equally dramatic, “I’ve always been happy to be the smart one for the both of us, don’t put that on me!”

Newt also threw in a rather clever, “I feel like you’ve never even tried to get to know my family!” Which Thomas met with what he hoped was an equally clever sort of double entendre of “I’ve never felt like you really wanted me there!”

Another favourite of his was him jealously proclaiming “You’ll never tell me if you are or ever were interested in your roommate.” To which Newt would shake his head and tell Thomas quietly — dramatically — that the fact that he even had to ask was the exact problem. 

At one point, Newt even leaned forward and, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes, pressed a sort of overly cutesy kiss to Thomas’ nose. Thomas’ cheeks burned bright red, and he could see that Newt was very proud of himself for that one, even though Thomas stammered through his words for the following five minutes. 

By the time they got out at the end of the session, they pretended to be distant, pretended not to want to see each other, but Newt still took his hand, and Thomas didn’t pull away. They got an invoice from the front desk, to prove to Minho they really did it, and once they got out the front, Thomas asked Newt if they could take a selfie in front of the place.

“You have to understand, it’s worth nothing if I can’t prove I really did it with you.”

“Fine, fine.” Newt nodded, “Though this is ridiculous.” Thomas turned the camera on them both and Newt stood by his side, leaning his arm on Thomas’ shoulder and smiling sort of sarcastically, the name of the clinic caught in the frame. 

“You’re a legend, man.” Thomas said fondly as they walked back to campus, “I mean, are you an actor or something? That was downright impressive.”

Newt laughed and shook his head. “Nah. I’ve always been sort of a creative person though, maybe I missed my calling.”

The two laughed, and Thomas found himself wanting to spend more time with Newt. Actual time with him. “Hey, my roommate Minho and I are hosting a party in our common room tonight if you want to come? It’ll be fun, and I think you two would really get along well. Plus, you deserve total bragging rights for what just happened.”

Newt seemed to consider, and for a moment, Thomas thought Newt would say no. “Can I bring Alby?” He asked. 

Thomas felt an uncomfortable flush of jealousy, which he had absolutely no right at all to feel, but nodded. “‘Course. It’ll mostly be our course friends and football friends anyway, so… you should have someone you know properly. Aside from me that is.”

Newt nodded, and only when they parted ways did Thomas realise he now had to throw a fucking party.

When he told Minho, Minho looked at him like he’d lost his mind.

“Dude… you could’ve just asked him out. Why’d you have to drag me into it?”

Thomas tried to wave that off, shaking his head, “Please! I’m not into him or anything, I just thought it was a good night for a party and that you and he could become friends.”

“Tom, my best friend, my platonic soulmate, future owner of my first born child’s soul… you’re an idiot. And a bad liar.” He grinned, shaking his head as he went on sending out invites to their friends or acquaintances. “So on a scale of one to ten, I’m talking you up a fifteen, right?”

“Yes, please.” Thomas admitted quietly, half smiling. 

Minho patted him on the shoulder, and the two went about trying to plan a party in a matter of a few hours. Unfortunately, that included quick trips to buy food and alcohol, as well as quick construction of playlists for the occasion. 

By the time six thirty rolled around, Minho was looking down at Thomas, who sat on his bed looking overwhelmed and anxious. 

“You literally spent time with him today, Tom. You know exactly what he looks like. He knows what you look like. You don’t need to freak over your outfit.”

“Yeah, but he only knows me as his fake jealous boyfriend, I’m trying to make a good impression as  _ me.”  _ Thomas had evidently long since given up on pretending not to be into Newt. It was inevitable that Minho would realise, Minho knew him better than anyone in the world, including his twin sister. They had been close growing up, but had drifted somewhat since college. 

“Okay, so… you, my anxious little weirdo, you’re going to sit and breathe for a second. I’m going to find you an outfit.” 

Thomas nodded and lay back on the bed. A minute later, he was hit in the face with clothes, and looked down at them. “Why these?”

“They look good on you. Go get ready. And do the swoopy thing with your hair, don’t just leave it like it is now, it looks sad.”

Thomas just blinked after Minho at the comment, not having realised hair could look sad.

By the time he was ready, Minho was already gone, presumably to start the party, and Thomas took a moment to calm himself. He was being stupid. He barely knew this guy from a plank of wood. Just because he was funny, and British, and willing to go along with Thomas’ stupid ideas, it didn’t mean anything… right? 

By the time he made his way down to their building’s common room, he was looking forward to getting drunk. At least that would take the edge off. And he and Newt didn’t have his second appointment for a while yet. 

When he got down, things were already going. People stood in little clumps, chatting happily over Minho’s music and drinking. Minho had done most of the work, really, and thank god, because Thomas just wasn’t that good at this stuff. Despite him being the one who signed Minho up to host it, his raven haired companion excelled in social situations, where Thomas often stumbled. 

He made his way over to where Minho stood, talking to Gally and Frypan casually, chatting about something Thomas didn’t catch, since it cut off right as he arrived, his friends welcoming him with smiles and quick hugs. They were asking him questions, talking about their next practice or their next assessment, but Thomas’ mind was elsewhere, scanning the room for a familiar shock of blonde hair. 

When he couldn’t find it, he agreed to play a game of beer pong with his group of best friends, contentedly knowing he could beat Fry with his eyes closed, and relying on Minho to be able to beat Gally.

They went on that way for a bit, and though he and Minho  _ were  _ winning, Thomas was buzzed before he knew it. They all were, he was pretty sure, if the upbeat laughter was anything to go by.

They were nearly at the end of their second game when Thomas got distracted looking at the corner of the room. 

Confused though he was by the sight, it was unmistakable. Teresa and Newt, both leaning against the far wall, chatting happily. His twin had a bright grin on her face as she leaned close to the blonde boy in front of her, and Newt had his head tipped back in a laugh. Thomas watched as he brought his eyes back to her, and she raised a hand to his hair, evidently fluffing it up. He couldn’t hear or make out the conversation, but some small, irrational part of him burned. He had no right. Absolutely no right to feel anything about this.

But of course… Teresa. Teresa who was always smarter. Teresa who was always their parents’ favourite. Teresa who excelled at everything. She even got the blue eyes while his were a boring brown. Of course Newt would be smiling so brightly at Teresa. He loved his sister, truly he did, but he had always felt somewhat overshadowed by her, especially as they grew older, and this only tread in that old wound. 

If he were a smarter man (or more like, a sober man) he might’ve realised he was being irrational. They were only talking, and Thomas bore no right to Newt’s attention, but he  _ wanted it.  _ That was why he’d thrown this dumb party at all. 

Or, why he’d forced Minho to.

“Go.” Minho said, looking at Thomas. He had been drinking too, but he was a good friend, and could clearly see Thomas’ thinly veiled upset at what he was witnessing. 

Thomas started off through the small crowd of party-goers, towards where his fake boyfriend and sister stood talking so closely, so happily. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my sister and my boyfriend!” He began, some logical inkling in his brain telling him he’d cringe at this the following day. 

“Your… sister?” Newt asked. Right on cue, at the very same time, Teresa spoke.

“Your boyfriend?”

“No,” Newt explained quickly, “I’m helping him with some bet with Minho. We’re strangers pretending to be boyfriends in couples’ therapy, it’s a whole thing.” 

Thomas wished he hadn’t clarified so quickly. 

“Twin? You’re Thomas Agnes?  _ The  _ Thomas Agnes?” Newt asked him then, dark eyes finding him again. Thomas was glad they did. He childishly (drunkenly) told himself they belonged on him. 

“ _ The?”  _ Thomas repeated, confused. 

“You’re a… full scholarship biomechanical engineering student? You skipped a grade?” Newt looked genuinely stunned, and Thomas wanted to be offended that he was so surprised, but he was busy being proud of the shocked look. 

“I told you I was a scholarship kid.” Thomas nodded.

Newt blanched, “Yeah, but we were talking about track and football! I thought you were an athletic scholarship.” His eyes flickered to Teresa then, like he was trying to see some resemblance between them. They weren’t that far apart in height, Thomas thought, and they were both fair with dark hair. Other than that, they didn’t resemble each other much. 

“Not my fault you assumed I was dumb. A man can have both a footballer’s body and a biomechanical engineer’s brain.” He smirked, a teasing smile pulling at his face.

“How drunk are you right now, Tom?” Teresa laughed, amusement in her voice as she leaned an arm against Newt’s shoulder. Thomas tried not to frown outwardly. 

“I’m not…  _ not  _ drunk.”

“Not-not drunk. Beautiful, Tom, really. Should you go get a glass of water?”

“No.” Thomas answered stubbornly. “How do you two know each other…?”

She snorted, and Thomas wondered if he was being that obvious or if she just knew him really well. “We took a creative writing class together in the fall.” She told Thomas, “How’d you find him to drag into yours and Minho’s bullshit?” 

“Minho picked him out randomly in a coffee house.” Thomas confessed, somehow feeling like Teresa’s claim to knowing him was a little more legitimate.

“Speaking of, when do I get to meet Minho?” Newt asked, and Thomas brightened. 

“Minho!” He yelled above the noise, along with a bird call they’d been jokingly doing to each other since basically infancy. 

“Tom-boy!” The voice shouted back across the room; and a minute later, Minho was bustling through the people to join them. When he got there, he threw an arm protectively over Thomas’ shoulder. “Aye, it’s your life partner and girl-Thomas all hanging out.” He joked, a grin on his lips. Thomas loved his best friend. Too much to describe. 

“Minho, you’ve known me since I was five. The joke is dead man.” Teresa cut in. 

“Never.” Minho answered casually, shaking his head. “So you must be Newt.” He said warmly, holding his hand out to Newt to shake, before abandoning the idea entirely and hugging him instead. Newt looked a little nervous, and chuckled awkwardly, hugging the shorter boy back. “My boy’s a good life partner, huh?” He asked, boisterous in his motions and tone. 

Teresa laughed, and Newt nodded, feigning seriousness. “Oh yeah. Found out loads about him today. Like that his favourite colour is green and he thinks I’m dating my roommate.” 

Actually, Thomas had totally forgotten that line of thinking. He was busy being paranoid Newt liked Teresa better now. 

“Well, are you?” Minho asked, ever the best friend in the world. 

Newt snorted, “Have you ever dated a roommate, man? Not a smart idea. You have to live with your ex if you break up.”

This time, it was Teresa who backed him. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but he’d take it. “That’s not actually an answer.” She pointed out, and Thomas was relieved he wasn’t the one pushing. 

“No.” Newt finally answered directly, shaking his head. “We used to be… something, I don’t know, but not anymore.”

Thomas suddenly wondered if Newt felt overwhelmed amongst this little group, all questioning him. He was the shiny new toy. Thomas wondered if he and Teresa, competitive with each other their whole life, had unwittingly and unintentionally set Newt as the new standard. The new unspoken competition. 

“What about you?” Newt asked, looking from Minho to Thomas. “You two never…?”

He glanced at Minho, who glanced back, They both erupted into laughter, and after a moment, Thomas had to physically hold onto Minho to keep from crying with laughter. 

“They’ve known each other since they were little kids.” Teresa filled in when neither of them could catch their breath. “They’re like two halves of one person. Nothing romantic there, it’d be too weird.”

Thomas wiped tears from his eyes. “Be like kissing my grandma.” He explained.

“It would be like kissing my dead hamster Maurice.” Minho added, the two both cracking back up into giggles again. 

When they finally caught their breath, Minho smiled warmly at Newt. “I mean, Tom’s smart, athletic, funny… he’s an absolute catch, I should be so lucky, but nah. We’ve been relegated to best friends forever.” Thomas knew what Minho was doing, and he loved him for it. “Plus, he’s not completely hideous to look at.” 

Newt laughed then, “With all that going for him, it’s a wonder we need therapy at all.” Thomas glowed.

He awoke with a jolt and a groan. His head pounded and he tried hard to recall the end of last night. He remembered agreeing to play drinking games with Teresa, Newt and Minho. He remembered being irritated that Newt and Teresa were on the same team, and hugged or high fived whenever they won a point or got ahead. He remembered downing a lot.

Then… nothing.

He glanced around the room, looking for Minho, but finding it empty. He squinted against the light of the morning, reaching aimlessly around for his phone. When he found it and turned it on, he squinted at the full brightness of it too, trying to blink his bleariness away to get a good look at the screen.

**Newt:** hope you’re okay this morning x

**Minho:** I crashed with a friend ;)

**Teresa:** Call me if you need something tomorrow

Thomas stared at all three texts. If they’d all already messaged him like this, he must’ve been drunker than any of them, right? And why was Minho throwing him winky emojis?

He answered Minho first.

**Thomas:** who at that party could you have possibly hooked up with?

**Minho:** nobody. 

**Thomas:** ????

**Minho:** didn’t loverboy put you to bed? 

Thomas sat up in bed, looking around the room. He had absolutely no idea whether or not Newt put him to bed. He had no idea how he’d even gotten to bed. The last thing he remembered about Newt was him and Teresa being all excited because they beat he and Minho at bear pong. 

He dialed Minho’s number without thinking, and the boy sounded tired when he picked up. 

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked quickly, panicking.

Minho snorted into the phone loudly, “Hello to you too. I didn’t think you had  _ that  _ much to drink.”

“Minho, please, stay on topic. How badly did I embarrass myself? Are we talking throw a stray text making light of it or move to Switzerland and change my name to John Doe?”

“I actually don’t know.” Minho admitted. “I saw the two of you with your arms around each other heading back to our dorm and I cleared out for the night just in case. I hadn’t spoken to you in a while when you went, so I don’t know how drunk you were. I probably should’ve checked, I’m sorry, man. Bad best friend-ing.”

Thomas shook his head, though Minho couldn’t see it, “No, no, it’s fine.” He promised. “I’m not like, worried or anything. I woke up here alone, fully dressed in bed, I just… couldn’t understand the texts on my phone, that’s all.”

“Oh.” A sigh. “Well, I don’t know what you said, but I didn’t see you  _ do  _ anything embarrassing. If that helps.”

“Yeah… thanks, man. ‘S’pose I’ll have to text him and find out…”

“For what it’s worth, it seemed like he liked you.” Minho offered, and Thomas half smiled into the phone, wearily.

“Seemed like he liked Teresa too.”

There was silence for a beat.

“I don’t know, man.” Minho’s voice was quiet and gentle, “That wasn’t the vibe I got.”

Thomas let that one go, though he smiled again. 

“Thanks, man. I should go. Love you.” He said quickly, barely even thinking about the words they’d been saying to each other since they were kids.

“Love you too. Don’t freak until you know there’s something real to freak about.”

He stared at his phone, then opened Newt’s contact and swallowed down his nerves. 

**Thomas:** thanks man… can i… ask what happened?

**Newt:** ah, i was afraid of this. you don’t remember? at all?

**Thomas:** no… I think the drinking games really got me…

**Newt:** yeah… you were starting to talk a bit of nonsense so i offered to put you to bed. it was very cute.

_ Very cute?  _ What the hell did that mean? He winced, knowing he’d probably acted like an idiot. Maybe even told Newt he may have formed a  _ tiny  _ crush on him. He prayed to a deity he didn’t believe in that he hadn’t ruined everything. Whatever any of this even was.

**Newt:** I can feel you stressing through the phone. don’t worry mate. really. 

Thomas groaned and dropped dramatically back into bed, trying to decide how he’d gotten to this point. He was being ridiculous, he barely even knew Newt. Barely knew anything about him. He was letting himself get swept up by pretty blonde hair and a nice accent and he needed to stop and compose himself. 

**Newt:** by the way, teresa and i are having lunch today if you and minho want to come 

**Thomas:** definitely, we’ll be there! where and when?

So much for composing himself. Thomas rallied Minho quickly, who was happy to come along with it all, because he was a great friend, and also extremely invested at that point. The two got dressed and Thomas pretended his head wasn’t pounding as he went.

Lunch was quiet and fairly uneventful. He learned a little more about Newt, lots of times by proxy as Teresa and Minho asked him questions. Thomas stayed fairly quiet, happy to listen.

“So what made your family move out here?” Minho asked casually, really just trying to make conversation Thomas was sure. He was keeping quiet, trying to earn back some good will after everything. 

Newt half smiled, but there was a sad quality to his expression. “Uh, I had a bit of an accident, and I think my whole family just needed a change afterwards…” 

He said it vaguely, and Thomas wouldn’t have pressed further personally, but Teresa asked, “Oh, no, what happened?”

Newt half smiled, but he stared down at his plate, a little awkward. “I, uh…  _ fell  _ from a twentieth storey window.” The implication was clear. Thomas was filled with the sudden urge to wrap him up in a hug. Or at least to make him tea and check on him. 

“I’m so sorry.” Teresa said quietly, while Minho and Thomas bit their tongues.

“No, no. It’s fine. Things are a lot better now. I’m here and I got help.” He said with warmth in his smile.

It didn’t make Thomas want to hug him any less. 

“Does anyone want to go for a walk after lunch?” Newt asked, and Minho and Thomas exchanged a glance. 

“I can’t, I’ve got plans.”

“I would love to, but I have a class.” Teresa added.

Newt glanced at him then, dark eyes unreadable. “Tommy?” He was sure he’d get teased about the nickname later.

“I’m free.” Thomas said thoughtlessly. He actually also had a class that afternoon, but he had perfect attendance, he could miss one day. 

“Cool.” Newt smiled back at him, and a little while later, the two were out walking by the park on campus, casually chatting.

“So you said your whole family moved out here? Who all else is that?”

“Oh, just my Mum and my sister.” He admitted, “But my little sister goes here too. She’s pre-med.”

He seemed so proud, it was hard for Thomas not to adopt the attitude. He didn’t know Newt’s sister, but he figured if he liked Newt, he’d probably like her too. He hoped he’d get a chance to meet her at some point, considering Newt had already met his sister and best friend. 

“That’s awesome,” He paused, “Masters of Fine Arts and Literature, by the way? What even is that?”

Newt grinned, “Well, you get the Literature part, I’m sure. But the fine arts part is the study and creation of art. It would allow me to be a curator or art critic. A whole range of things. Or maybe a teacher one day. I don’t know. Once I give up on the  _ actual  _ artist thing, y’know…”

“Why would you give up on the actual artist thing?” Thomas asked kindly, looking over at the other boy, who was staring straight ahead as he walked. It was a nice time of year for it, the leaves fell prettily around them, and it wasn’t too warm or too cold for the venture. The more he learned about Newt, the more curious he got. He’d compiled little bits of information here or there from things Newt had said. About how he’d come to America, his mother and sister (he’d also established that his sister was Sonya, who studied pre-med and had a girlfriend named Harriet), the things he did in his spare time, his sense of humour… his little file was growing, and by their next session, they couldn’t truthfully say it was because they barely knew each other anymore. He was sure they’d find things to use as a joke regardless.

Newt shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s not exactly bloody realistic, is it? I think my Mum wishes I’d do somethin’ more like Sonya. Maybe I should’ve. I could’a been a nurse or something. A vet, maybe. But I just figured… one shot, y’know? Maybe I could… be a teacher if nothing else. Or a curator for a museum. Maybe it’ll be nothing. I don’t really know.”

Thomas frowned, “Well… I’d really like to see your art. I bet you’re good.” He said slowly, “But I don’t know how to reassure you without having seen any of it. It would feel disingenuous to tell you you should pursue it without knowing if you’re any good. You could be a stick figure person for all I know. Or write really bad online porn. But uh… I don’t know. I’m a big believer in following your dreams and all that.” He tore his eyes away from Newt’s profile, which had become endlessly fascinating to him in a short period of time. It seemed like there was so much contained in there. So many feelings. He wanted to know about all of them.

Newt glanced back at him, Thomas could feel it even as he pretended to look at the park, which had seemed to pale in its beauty, he could barely focus on it at all past the conversation. He felt antsy under Newt’s gaze, like he should be trying to do something to look better, or like he wasn’t good enough under it, but he tried not to look back. After all, he’d spent enough time staring at Newt in the past twenty-four hours to last a lifetime. Or at least, it should’ve lasted a lifetime, if he wasn’t already itching to look back at the blonde boy.

“Hey.” Newt said quickly. “Stop walking for a sec, but don’t move. Just stay completely still.”

Thomas froze, his brows furrowed in confusion. His eyes followed Newt, who pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled the camera app up, smiling at Thomas. 

“I said not to move.” He laughed, reaching out and smoothing out Thomas’ brows with his fingertips. “Look straight ahead, yeah? Like you were before?” Thomas did as he was told, though he wasn’t exactly following what was happening. Newt moved until he was standing in the apparent perfect position, and a tingle ran down Thomas’ spine when he heard the camera click.

“Perfect.” Newt said happily, turning the phone to show Thomas the picture of his own face, of his eyes, lit up by a shard of light falling through the trees. “Your eyes look like honey when the light hits them directly.” He told Thomas, completely casual, as if Thomas hadn’t just completely fallen in love with him on the spot, as if his heart wasn’t floating away like nothing could ever bother it again. 

He had never been so glad not to have Teresa’s blue eyes.

“They’re just brown,” Thomas managed bashfully.

Newt grinned, and shook his head, “Nah, they’re not.”

It was a few hours later when they stood in Newt’s dorm room, which was empty aside from the two of them, Thomas sitting nervously on the edge of the bed while Newt knelt beside the bed, digging through a drawer. 

“Aha!” He grinned, straightening up, “Found it.” He handed Thomas the leather bound book, and he took it gingerly, like he was nervous. He  _ was  _ nervous. What if he didn’t have the right reactions? What if he hurt the book in some way?

He began turning through the pages, and was immediately taken aback. They were all sketches, in varying shades of completed, but they were also all  _ excellent. _

Clear lines and emotive eyes and figures so well drawn he felt like he could see the living person in front of him. Some of the closer up ones were even better, the detail of an eye or a hand too much for him to even explain. Some of them looked outright like pictures taken in black and white.

He glanced up at Newt in shock. 

“Okay, you absolutely cannot quit trying to be an artist, man.” He said quickly, eyes wide with sincerity and surprise. “These are amazing. Like, actually amazing. Do you have an instagram or anything? I bet so many people would love to see these drawings. Or commission you to do them or a loved one.” His tone had taken on a bright and excited energy, unable to help himself.

“Nah. I mean, there are so many great artists in the world and… I don’t know.”

Thomas shook his head in disbelief, but kept turning pages. He paused when he came over one of Teresa. It was unmistakably her, everything from the way her hair curled around her face when she didn’t do it to the ridiculously big blue eyes. It spoke to how good he was, that Thomas recognised that it was her instinctively, like it was a photograph of her, rather than a piece of art he was deciphering. 

“Can’t believe you and she were so close and we never met.” Thomas managed, a half smile on his face. 

Newt laughed, “Yeah. Well, she always told me you and she weren’t that close these days, since you had Minho and she had her own friends and you were living in different buildings.”

Thomas nodded slowly. That was probably true. The twins were both competitive, and that had probably caused something of a schism as they had gotten older. Especially with Teresa not getting the same scholarship opportunity that Thomas himself had. Thomas had always suspected it bothered her. She seemed so much smarter than him on the surface, but then, book smarts and social graces weren’t really the same thing in practice. 

“Well, it’s incredible.” Thomas said seriously. “Like, really… incredible.”

“Can I draw you?” Newt asked. He didn’t seem shy or awkward about it, but Thomas’ cheeks still flushed. His book was filled with drawings of people, including his sister. It didn’t make him special. But still, the idea of Newt wanting to draw him made his heart swell. He nodded awkwardly.

It wasn’t long later that Thomas had been positioned by Newt in a position he wanted, and Thomas was sitting as still as possible, whilst also continuing to converse with Newt.

There was a moment of silence or two, before a song popped into his head, and Thomas could feel himself getting emotional. 

“What?” Newt asked, visibly concerned. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Thomas waved him off, shaking his head. “Oh, I’m fine, I just have that Dinosaurs in Love song stuck in my head.” 

Newt blinked, and Thomas was immediately aware that Newt didn’t  _ know  _ the song. After a moment of excited rambling, Thomas had it pulled up on his phone, and by the final line the little girl sang, Newt had tears in his eyes too.

“What the fuck, Tommy?” He asked as he wiped at his eyes, “What did I ever do to you? Why would you show me that? I need to have like, seventeen existential crises about it now.” He was laughing through the tears, and so was Thomas, and the whole thing was so ridiculous that Thomas wasn’t sure how only a few days ago, Newt had been a blonde stranger on the other side of a coffee shop, someone Thomas was too nervous to approach.

Now he sat in his bed, looking at Newt’s drawing of the outline of his face, both laughing through their tears about this stupid childish song that made them both cry. 

“If you think about it,” Newt began, probably trying to calm them both down, “It’s kinda beautiful that they never said goodbye. Like… they never  _ had  _ to say goodbye. Like… they never got separated. They lived and died together. That’s better than one living on without another, isn’t it?”

Thomas sniffed, “Yeah. Yeah, it is. But… they just wanted to eat people and cucumbers in peace, y’know?”

Newt leaned over from his spot, patting Thomas’ hand fondly. “I know.” He still looked emotional too, and they looked at each other and each let out a breathy laugh. 

Another hour passed, and then the drawing was starting to look much more like him. He could see the curve of his own jaw and the shape of his own eyes, see the moles that Newt had made a point to highlight in the drawing. Newt told him it wouldn’t be finished that quickly, that he’d have to go through and put all the detail in later, but that it was okay, because he’d taken pictures of him and he had that as a reference now. 

By the time Thomas was back in his own dorm later that evening, he was pretty sure he had accidentally started Couples Counselling with the future love of his life. Sure, he didn’t actually know him that well, and he had the distinct feeling that Newt might be into Teresa, but he was also pretty sure that if he let himself, he would end up absolutely head over heels for this boy way too quickly. As it was, he was already completely smitten and he’d barely known him for any time at all.

But he was talented, funny, had a nice accent… He went along with Thomas’ shit, which was not nothing, in the scheme of things. And, Thomas realised, he had a good excuse to see Newt at least one more time, since they had another appointment in only two days. They had specifically asked for another session as soon as possible, citing urgent emotional issues in the relationship. There weren’t actually any urgent emotional issues, other than perhaps the fact that Thomas had decided to pair-bond with his fake boyfriend way,  _ way  _ too quickly.

Minho had noticed instantly, because he knew him too well. 

“Tom, the whole thing’s really cute, but don’t get too invested, don’t forget you don’t actually know anything about him. Like, do you even know if he’s into guys? I’m pretty certain he is, honestly, but have you actually asked? Do you know if he’s single? I honestly, honestly think you two are cute together and I hope it works out, but don’t get your hopes up when you’re not sure…” 

Thomas nodded, and he knew Minho was right about all of that. Because he hadn’t actually asked any of those questions, not properly.

“Min, I’m not thinking anything’s actually gonna happen here.” Thomas offered, “I’m really not. I mean, would I like them to? Yes. Am I pretty sure he’s my soulmate? Yes.” Thomas was only joking, and Minho obviously knew as much, because he laughed along with Thomas’ words, “But am I thinking there’s an actual future? Not really. Like you said, I barely know him. And he hasn’t, y’know, done anything to suggest he’s actually  _ into  _ me. I mean, he said my eyes looked like honey, but he’s also an artist, so I guess he just notices stuff like that…” He frowned, “Did I tell you that he drew Teresa?”

Minho shrugged, “He also drew you.” 

“I guess.”

“Just… Honestly, Tom? Ask.”

Thomas winced, looking up at him, “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know…” Minho deadpanned, “Maybe to get an actual answer.”

About then, his phone buzzed. It’d only been five or six hours since he last saw Newt, and so to get it done, he had to figure Newt hadn’t stopped drawing since he’d left to meet Minho all that time ago.

Still, there it was. A picture of the drawing, completed. It was… honestly uncanny, even to Thomas’ own eye, how much it looked like him. He held the phone out to Minho, who took it, examining the picture with wide, surprised eyes. 

“Damn. I really did pick you a great guy. Maybe I have some kind of superpowers.” Minho told him, sarcastically.

“Dude, you were the one who  _ just  _ told me a minute ago not to get my hopes up.”

Minho shook his head, “I’ve changed my mind, nobody spends this much time perfecting your ugly face unless they’re into you.”

Minho was still talking, but Thomas had phased out, typing and then deleting the same message over and over again.

**Thomas:** Are you free tomorrow night?

**Newt:** usually yes, tomorrow, i’m actually not. I’m having dinner with your sister, funnily enough.

Thomas groaned loudly, cutting off whatever Minho was currently talking about, and handing the phone back over to Minho to read.

“Just ask, dude. I mean, you’ve got another session with him in two days anyway. Just ask him out, properly, then. Or at least ask him if he’s dating Teresa. I have to tell you, I really don’t think that he is. But just… ask.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

It was good advice. That didn’t mean Thomas would take it, but it was good advice.

“Bold of you to assume I’m that smart, but alright.” Thomas joked, shaking his head, and the two of them exchanged a smile. It was already nearing midnight, and he had things to do for uni the following day, so he focused on trying to calm down enough to go to sleep.

Instead, he wound up looking at the picture Newt drew until far too early in the morning.

*

Thomas knocked on the door, feeling a little nervous and awkward about the whole thing. It had been easier when Thomas just thought he was cute and was looking forward to the prank, but now he actually liked the guy. As a person. And it was a lot scarier at that point.

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Newt greeted brightly as the door swung open. Thomas, for however weak he was becoming when it came to the other student, found himself surveilling the clothes he wore. The midnight blue button down, unbuttoned low enough for Thomas to have to force himself not to stare for a moment, dark jeans, dark shoes. He always looked mildly like he was trying to emulate some kind of moody french film, in stark contrast to Thomas’ apparent Maxipad Brad look. 

“Hey, Newt.” Thomas answered with a smile, bouncing on the balls of his feet awkwardly. 

“Ready for our last day as a dysfunctional married couple?” He teased, and Thomas almost forgot he was nervously trying to psych himself up to ask Newt out. Or at least ask him if he was single once and for all. 

He snorted, “Oh, yeah, I’m ready. Got plenty to complain about about you today, bud.” He teased, “Like how you draw all these other people when I should  _ clearly  _ be your muse.” He grinned as Newt locked up and they began walking off down the street towards the clinic for the final time. 

“Oh, right, right. And I’ll talk about how you spend more time with your best friend than me, and it’s so insulting.” They both laughed, because it was too easy for them to spin it all into something bad, though really, they had gotten along well. Too well, almost. 

By the time they entered the room, Thomas could see that same look in Newt’s eye all over again. The challenge. The smirk. The absolute cockiness of it all. He loved it, if he was honest. Newt was clever and outgoing, and sometimes Thomas wished he presented more like him. More cool and in control, rather than like the bundle of nervous energy he actually was. 

“Pick a couch,” Ava reminded them. Boldly, perhaps, Newt grabbed hold of Thomas' wrist and basically pushed him into the loveseat, maybe a little forcefully, probably for the sake of Ava. Thomas let himself be pushed into the seat, and waited for Newt, who sat so he was essentially half on the lounge itself and half on Thomas, his legs draped over Thomas’ right leg and hung between them. 

Thomas blinked down at him, his face flushed, letting one hand fall around Newt and one rest on his free leg. 

“Alright, how’ve you been, boys? Have you been working on spending more time together and trying to be close?”

“Yep.” Newt said quickly, apparently the bolder of the two. “We went to a party together and for a walk.”

“And are you feeling closer?”

“Yeah.” Thomas filled in with a nod.

They went on talking casually, Ava asking questions and them answering. It was a while before one of them brought up a complaint, and it was Newt, seeing as Thomas had a plan of what he wanted to say and he was a bit nervous about it.

“It’s just… he spends all of his time with his best friend, it’s like I don’t even exist sometimes.” Newt said slowly, “Like I’m not his priority.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “Well, he came before you.” He scoffed, acting as though Newt’s complaint made sense, as though he was actually a boyfriend being shoved aside. Though honestly, in the week he’d known Newt, he’d probably spend more time with Newt than Minho. 

Newt scoffed, “I’ve always suspected you were secretly in love with him.” Since their game had always been saying things that were technically true, but misleading, Thomas raised his brows, trying to figure out if it was true.

“Ugh, I thought I was the jealous one, Minho’s my brother in every way except blood!” He shook his head, feigning anger and offence. 

“Yeah, but he’s  _ not  _ your brother, Tommy. You could easily just be saying that.” He said with a little scoff. 

“Why would I lie? And I’m not the one drawing your sister, am I?”

Newt rolled his eyes, “Do you want to draw my sister? Because you can.”

Thomas tried to pass a laugh off as a scoff, because it was genuinely funny.  _ Newt  _ was genuinely funny. 

“You know that’s not the point.” Thomas answered, trying hard to seem emotional rather than amused, even though he was sort of nervous. Right down in the pit of his stomach. 

“Okay, so what is the point?”

“You like her better than me.”

Newt had that look on his face. That look like he was trying to figure out whether Thomas meant it or was having a joke. 

“Please, Tommy, you know I’m gay.” He said casually, keeping up the facade that Thomas  _ should  _ know this. “In fact, when Teresa asked me out to dinner, she was the first person I told that I liked you.” 

Thomas blinked. He wanted to ask what the truth was, because he was starting to get confused, and boy did he just want to know at this point whether Newt  _ was  _ actually gay and whether he  _ did  _ actually like Thomas. 

They were both silent for a moment, looking at each other like they were desperately trying to communicate something without words. It would’ve been less weird, probably, if Newt wasn’t half sat in Thomas’ lap and they weren’t weirdly close together to be having such a loaded and confusing conversation. 

Maybe Thomas really  _ was _ Maxipad Brad, because he had no idea what was going on. 

“Wait, fuck this,  _ really _ ?” He asked, abandoning any pretence for a moment. 

“Really that I’m gay or really that I like you?” Newt asked, and Thomas couldn’t help but noticing he was breathing a little more heavily, and that his eyes darted. Thomas suddenly realised Newt seemed nervous too. Somehow that didn’t help too much, but he hoped it meant what he thought it meant.

“Well… both, preferably.”

“Both.” Newt nodded quickly, more shy than Thomas had ever seen him. 

“Both?” Thomas repeated, letting out a breathless laugh of relief. 

“Both.” Newt confirmed, the two of them not breaking eye contact. 

“Can I…?” Thomas asked, and Newt nodded hurriedly.

All but forgetting that Ava was in the room at all, Thomas leaned down quickly, like he was running out of time, sort of awkwardly bent over himself, and brought his lips against Newt’s, eyes fluttering closed immediately. The taller boy’s hands were on him in a moment, one at the back of his neck, the other on his shoulder. Thomas shivered, realising how quickly he’d come to  _ really  _ want this. Immediately, he wanted more of Newt. He wanted to know more, he wanted to be a part of his life. He wanted to be allowed to kiss him more, more frenzied and passionate, and to be allowed to know what it was like to be with him. He was caught in all of these thoughts when Newt pulled away, struggling to bring the world around him back into focus.

The moment, though perfect, was intercepted by Ava clearing her throat. “Am I to assume that the two of you were  _ not  _ in fact a couple and  _ were  _ in fact wasting my time?” She asked, a little more stern than before.

“Well…” Newt began, while Thomas was still trying to collect the little pieces of himself that had fallen apart because of that kiss, “You could see it as us wasting your time  _ or…  _ You could see it as you essentially getting a couple of strangers together through your bonding techniques, which we actually did do… and which actually did make this happen. I mean, I don’t know about you, Tommy, but I definitely decided I liked you during that first session where we had to stare into each others’ eyes.” 

Thomas was too busy being dazed and lovestruck to answer much, but he managed a nod.

Ava sighed, shaking her head, but not actually looking too angry, especially after Newt’s praises. 

“You mean to tell me you came in here as strangers?”

“Uh-huh.” Thomas answered quickly.

She shook her head, “Call me if you ever need real couples counselling, I suppose. Good luck, boys.”

She opened the door to let them out and the two boys went, Newt taking hold of Thomas’ hand casually. 

“So.” Newt said as soon as they got out, snapping a photo of their invoice and sending it to Minho. “Now that you have thirty percent extra respect from Minho… you want to get dinner with me, Tommy?”

“Oh, fuck, yes.” Thomas nodded multiple times, finally having regained his bearings. “Is this… a date though or the kind of dinner you went out with Teresa for? Which, by the way, did she think that was a date?”

“Uh… Date. I mean… if you want it to be, of course. And… yeah, I think she did. Which is how the… y’know,  _ you  _ thing came up.” He explained. 

“I would very much like it to be a date, yes.” Thomas answered with a quick nod.

Newt tugged him along happily by the hand. “Come on, genius. I wasn’t done kissing you yet.”


End file.
